


Hortatory

by markwatnae (bertie)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertie/pseuds/markwatnae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hortatory | adj | urging to some course of conduct or action; exhorting; encouraging</p><p>Obi-Wan cannot handle the stress of Qui-Gon hampering their bond and relationship and finally crumbles under the pressure. His best friend is there to help him pick up the pieces, be his advocate, and jump start the healing Obi-Wan so desperately needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

He stares at his lightsaber sitting on the foot of the bed he has slept in since he was thirteen.

His datapad is on his desk, that is also littered with wrappers and two empty teacups. A message from Garen is blinking on the screen of the datapad, asking him how he has been lately.

If he answered it right now, the answer would not be _Good. How about you?_

He can feel his master through their bond, a presence that is warm and comforting despite how cold Obi-Wan feels right now.

His closet is cracked open and he can see his spare robe hanging there beside his tunics and pants. His thick winter coat takes up at least four spaces. The last time he wore that was on Hoth, a horrifically inhospitable planet that had requested Jedi assistance for the creation of a new dome city. His winter boots sit below his coat.

The river stone his master gave him on his thirteenth birthday is sitting on the table beside his bed.

He feels sick when he sees it.

His footsteps almost echo with how quickly he pounds out of the quarters and he does not look back to ensure the door closes. He is unsure exactly where he is headed, but he needs to get away.

Laughter draws his attention from his escape and he stops cold.

Tucked away in an empty hallway, a Padawan is doubled over, giggling, while their master digs their fingers into their sides and armpits.

Obi-Wan feels guilty for spying on a special moment between a Padawan and their master.

A moment he never experienced.

Even when he practically sprints away into a nearby room, the image is burned into his mind. The image of matching grins and laughter, a master’s arms wrapped around their Padawan, hugging them tight against their chest.

He pitches over his own feet, crumpling to the ground. Head between his knees, Obi-Wan grips the fabric of his pants in his fists and takes deep breathes. They do nothing to calm him.

Something inside him snaps, a pain flaring bright in his chest that leaves him breathless. He sobs into his knees, hacking, broken sobs that almost drag him to the floor.

Not only did Obi-Wan grow up in an apprenticeship that was cool at best, but now he is losing the closest thing he ever had to a family. He does not hate Anakin. The boy is young and bright and sweet, but a tiny, sickening piece of Obi-Wan resents him. It felt like an eternity before he even got Qui-Gon to accept him as a part of his life. Just as they were settling comfortably into their relationship Tahl was murdered, and, though he has never said as much, Obi-Wan has always felt Qui-Gon blames him for her death.

Despite his attempts to comfort his master and grieve alongside him, Obi-Wan was rebuffed continuously and sometimes roughly. He would be barked at, told to go to class, finish his work, run laps around the Temple, anything to get him out of Qui-Gon’s sight. Many days he spent time curled up in the upper level of the gym, knees tucked to his chest, crying for the loss of his master’s warmth and the woman that it supposedly died with.

His throat burns and he lets out a howling cry, pressing his forehead to his knees. He never wanted Tahl to die. He loved her—as much as Jedi could. He wished he had been strong enough to confront Qui-Gon and hash out their difficult situation, but he had simply allowed it to be brushed away after the pain was no longer so consuming. They went back to their normal routine, eventually they learned to smile at each other again, but there was always a second shadow hanging over Obi-Wan’s head.

Obi-Wan was trying to make his master see that Anakin could not be trained, that _he_ was still being trained, and there was nothing to do if the Council made a decision he did not agree with. All that got him was a lecture and then a half-hearted pep-talk.

Obi-Wan never truly thought Qui-Gon would abandon him. There were teasing remarks if Obi-Wan was being especially difficult, but they had been accompanied by bumping shoulders or rough side-hugs.

Anakin has done nothing to warrant Qui-Gon’s affection, and yet he has somehow grabbed his complete attention and dragged him away from Obi-Wan’s grasp. Nothing could have prepared him for this type of pain, the hollow feeling of losing everything he has ever known—even if it was never truly comfortable. He could relax around Qui-Gon, but he feels like he has always hidden a part of himself for fear of judgement. He is only able to relax and let go around his friends who never make him feel inadequate for anything he does or says. Qui-Gon may be trying to form him into the perfect Jedi, but he can be unnecessarily harsh on occasion.

Almost as if a switch is flipped, the tears stop coming and he feels an eerie sense of calm wash over him. His sobs turn into watery hiccups and he rubs his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. When he looks up, he feels as if his entire world has been ripped out from under him.

Stars and planets spin lazily around him, winking in out of visibility and almost mocking him with their pleasant light. This room has been Qui-Gon’s favorite since he was a child, and he brought Obi-Wan here many times if he was upset or hurt or they simply wanted to have a quiet moment together. Those are the times Obi-Wan grieves for because they were the only instances Qui-Gon showed him any true warmth. He could be sure that he would receive some kind of affection when they spent time in the Star Map Room. It was like the room stripped Qui-Gon of all his reservations and allowed him to be the man Obi-Wan thinks he was to his first two Padawans.

“Obi-Wan?”

He jumps and looks over to the door. His friend Garen stares back at him. Obi-Wan can feel his panic mounting in the Force, before Garen is rushing to his side and going down to kneel beside him.

“What happened?” He asks, checking Obi-Wan for injuries.

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan says, but his voice sounds hollow and exhausted.

“Bantha shit. You don’t sit in dark rooms crying when nothing is wrong, Obi-Wan,” Garen says sharply. His guilt lances through the Force when Obi-Wan flinches away. His tone is soft when he speaks again, “Come on, we’ll talk about it later. Let’s go back to my room.”

Obi-Wan lets himself be pulled up from the floor and guided by a light hand on his back through the Temple to Garen’s new Knight quarters. Obi-Wan focus intently on the warmth of his friend’s hand, his kindness, his fierce protection. He allows himself to smile when Garen tells him about falling into a mud puddle on his last mission and having to show up to a congressional meeting with half of his body covered in mud.

They pass a room with a hovercart outside the open door and a new Knight is moving in, her master helping unpack. Obi-Wan’s feet stop, but his body tries to keep moving away from the scene and he nearly collides with a pillar before Garen grabs him around the waist and steadies him.

“Whoa, okay, we’ve gotta get to the bottom of this,” Garen says.

Obi-Wan clings to his friend’s cloak as they make the last trek to his quarters. Garen keeps his arm around his back, holding him close. By the time they are inside, Obi-Wan does not have the energy to admire the warm, inviting atmosphere and décor because he is holding desperately to his composure. He collapses onto Garen’s soft, plush sofa just as his grasp on his emotions slips and his eyes fill with tears.

“Garen,” he says, quiet and hurting, and he grasps his friend’s hand. “I don’t know what to do.”

He sees the fear take over and Garen sits beside him, holding his hand tight.

“What’s wrong, Obi? You have to tell me,” he begs, reaching out to brush a tear off Obi-Wan’s cheek.

Obi-Wan swallows. “I’m not sure. I think Qui-Gon is requesting me for my Trials.”

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“He just told me last month I wasn’t ready. He told me I needed another year or two before he felt comfortable saying I was ready.” He takes a steadying breath. “We found a boy on our mission. His midichlorian count is higher than anyone in Jedi history. He wants him to be trained, but the Council said he is too old and too dangerous.”

His voice breaks on the last word. Very similar to how Qui-Gon described him when he refused to take him as his Padawan, but he is adamant about training Anakin.

The realization hits Garen and he gapes openly.

“He’s practically renouncing you,” he cries, appalled. “You don’t deserve this, Obi. You deserve better. Take your Trials and get out on your own.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I’m not ready, Garen. I’m not ready to be on my own.”

“How do you know? You only have Qui-Gon’s opinion to go off of, and Force knows he’s not the most forthcoming with praise. There’s no reason for him to be treating you like this, Obi. I know he had a lot of problems with Xanatos, but that is no reason to neglect you and make you work so hard for a simple _good job_. Your scores should tell you that you’re ready to be Knight. No one knows exactly what they’re doing when they’re first Knighted, but you’ll figure it out just like everyone else.”

Obi-Wan leans into his friend’s hand when he cups his cheek and wipes tears away. He swallows against another onslaught of crying, shifting closer to Garen’s warmth.

“I miss you,” he whispers miserably.

“I should never have left you,” Garen says, wrapping Obi-Wan up in his arms almost eagerly. “I’m so sorry. I regretted it the moment I was gone, and I can’t imagine what you were feeling.”

Obi-Wan feels some of his grief lift when Garen’s arm settles low around his waist and his lips press softly to his brow.

“I won’t leave you again. I want to stay with you. I’m happier here with you anyway.”

Another kiss on his forehead and Obi-Wan thinks he might get through this. Garen has always been there to support him. Even when Obi-Wan explained to him his hesitant but open mind when it comes to sex. He has never once strayed until he had the opportunity to take a long-term mission that would put him undercover in a piloting program. Obi-Wan was thrilled for him and encouraged him to take it, to follow his dream at least for the extent of the mission. Now he is finished with the mission and Obi-Wan is glad to have him back for the love and confidence he inspires. If nothing else, Garen will take on anyone who dares to threaten Obi-Wan in any way.

Like he has promised to take on Obi-Wan’s own master several times.

“Let’s get you something to eat and into bed. Do you want to let Qui-Gon know where you are?”

Obi-Wan weighs his options. If he does not tell Qui-Gon where he is, he runs the risk of a lecture later. If he does tell Qui-Gon where he is staying, then Qui-Gon may come to take him back to their quarters. He knows Garen cannot help him during a lecture so he takes his commlink from his belt to call his master.

There is no answer.

Letting out a deep breath, Obi-Wan leaves a message for his master before pocketing his commlink again, shrugging out of his cloak, and toeing off his boots. Ever since they were children, Garen always took care of Obi-Wan. He fussed over him constantly, worrying even as he went along with their ill-advised, childish plans. But if Obi-Wan was ever hurt or sick, Garen was at his side to offer any kind of comfort he could.

Garen feeds him a thick, hearty stew he made the day before and Obi-Wan curls up on the couch around the warm bowl. His master is not an experienced cook, he can make a few easy meals, but it is rare Obi-Wan has the opportunity to eat a home cooked meal that does not come from the Temple kitchen. He is just taking his first bite when Garen comes back into the room. He leans down and hands over a small plate of thick, crusty bread. Before he stands, he leaves a kiss on Obi-Wan’s ear, and Obi-Wan finally smiles.

“I feel like a kept man,” Obi-Wan teases, tearing off a piece of the bread to dip into his stew.

“That was the plan,” Garen says, smoothing Obi-Wan’s hair. He leans back in and presses his lips to the curve of his neck. “I like taking care of you.”

Obi-Wan reaches back and curls his fingers into thick, silky hair. “I know, and I love that about you.”

Garen leaves a final kiss before he disappears back into the small kitchen. Obi-Wan feels content here, tucked into his friend’s plush sofa with a delicious meal. With his stomach full and his emotions less turbulent, he does not put up a fuss when Garen coaxes him to settle down in his bed to sleep.

Resting there in Garen’s bed, warm under the covers with a slightly calloused hand rubbing circles into the small of his back, Obi-Wan feels confident that his life may turn out all right even if some things are difficult to overcome. And he knows he will have Garen to lean on for support.


	2. Two

Obi-Wan wakes to the incessant chirping of his commlink.

He rolls out of bed and blearily fumbles through his belt until he can find it and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Obi-Wan, I’ve called you three times already.”

The nice, calm fuzzy feeling he had been harboring while tucked into Garen’s bed is immediately replaced with a cold, sinking sensation in his stomach.

“I apologize, Master. I overslept,” he says simply, knowing no excuse will work anyway.

A stony silence. “I’m coming to collect you from Knight Muln’s quarters.”

“Yes, Master.”

The call ends abruptly and Obi-Wan sits down on his backside on the carpeted floor. His brief respite from the stress of recent events is over quicker than he can blink. Tears well up in his eyes and he pushes them away, but no amount of force will keep them from falling.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Normally he would blush and stammer over Garen using a pet name, but he does not have the energy and he likes the comfortable feeling it elicits. Strong arms slide around him and he is pulled against Garen’s chest, his legs draping over his friend’s own as he settles down.

“It’s going to be all right.”

Obi-Wan nestles his face against Garen’s neck, sniffling pitifully as he struggles to get a hold of his emotions. He has never felt so unstable before in his two decades of life, but lately he can barely hold himself together for a few hours. Every minute is an immense struggle.

“Why don’t you take a shower? It will make you feel better and you’ll be ready for the day—whatever it brings.”

He nods and accepts Garen’s help to get to his feet. Garen leaves him in the ‘fresher with a clean towel and a kiss to his temple. Obi-Wan swallows his anxiety for the day ahead of him and turns on the water. The warmth allows him to momentarily forget how badly he aches inside, how he aches for the affection he has so rarely felt from his master. He simply wants the normal relationship with his master he has seen exhibited by other pairs in the Temple.

When Obi-Wan steps out of the shower, he can hear voices out in the common room and is suddenly consumed with fear. He does not think he can face his master after all, face him and ask him to change his ways.

“Obi? It’s just me and Bant out here. Qui-Gon called again and he was held up by something, but he’s on his way now,” Garen says through the door.

Obi-Wan must have projected instead of shielded, and his face burns with shame. He can barely keep a hold of his emotions much less hide them from anyone. His hands shake as he redresses in his tunics and he leaves his braid unplaited, empty of the ties and beads his master has bestowed upon him throughout the years.

Bant rushes up and hugs him when he steps into the room and he sinks into her embraces. She brings one webbed hand up to his head, cradling him close, and he squeezes her tighter.

“It’s going to be okay, Obi-Wan. I promise,” she murmurs, and he goes tense.

“What are you planning?”

Garen crosses his arms over his broad chest. “We’re doing what we should have done a long time ago. We’ve stood by while you were practically abused right in front of us and never said anything because you begged us to leave it alone. I’ve had enough and I won’t see you hurt any longer.”

Obi-Wan surprises himself—and both of his friends—by nodding slightly. He hangs his head, staring at his toes as they dig into the soft carpet. His sight is blurred by tears.

“Oh, Obi,” Bant whispers, stroking the unbraided hair behind his ear. “I’m so sorry we’ve let this go on so long.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”

Bant touches his cheek lightly, tilting his face up. “Reeft is off planet, but he sends you his love.”

His chest fills with warmth at the thought of his friends coming together to help him when he has been unable to help himself. He smiles weakly.

The door chime sounds throughout the room and Obi-Wan is sure his face drains of all color. He has never felt so strongly before and it frightens him that he reacts so strongly to the idea of facing his master. Garen crosses the room and stops beside him to kiss his forehead firmly and hug him before answering the door.

Obi-Wan takes three steps backward before he realizes what he is doing.

Qui-Gon does not look angry, but he looks annoyed. Obi-Wan has learned that this is just as dangerous. He has the shameful urge to run and hide and never emerge.

_This is not how a Jedi deals with confrontation_ , he thinks.

_You have not been trained by the most emotionally stable Jedi,_ another voice tells him.

Only one pair of eyes is trained on him, and Obi-Wan feels incredibly small under his gaze. He remembers Bant talking about how safe she always felt with Tahl and then Kit and his heart sinks.

“We are accompanying the Queen back to Naboo, Obi-Wan. We’re to leave immediately,” Qui-Gon states simply.

The thought of being trapped on a tiny starship with his master nearly causes his empty stomach to rebel. If he would not crash embarrassingly into the sofa behind him, Obi-Wan would continue backing away.

“Master Jinn, with all due respect, Obi-Wan is not well enough to complete the mission,” Bant says firmly.

Obi-Wan has never seen her so confident and sure of herself. It comforts him to see her find her inner strength after all that she has suffered.

“He is perfectly well, Bant. Come, Obi-Wan, we don’t have time for delay,” Qui-Gon says, brushing past her to advance on Obi-Wan.

Panic swells in his chest and he feels as if he might burst from the all-consuming fear it inspires. He scrambles back and trips over the corner of the couch as he attempts to avoid it, landing disgracefully on his behind with his back against the wall.

He sees the scene as if he is floating above it: Garen with his hand pressed to Qui-Gon’s chest to keep him back, himself cowering on the floor, and Qui-Gon watching him with a broken expression.

Everything snaps back into focus and he realizes he is trembling, limbs tucked protectively against his chest. He hears Bant say something about calling Kit, who is a council member now, and hears her speaking into her commlink. When he finally gathers the courage to look up, Garen is still standing in between he and Qui-Gon and Bant is watching from beside the door.

“You may think everything is all right, Master Jinn, but recent events are telling a different story. I will no longer stand by and do nothing while you hurt Obi-Wan. This has to end _now._ ”

Garen sounds angry. Obi-Wan buries the urge to flinch, but the desire to placate everyone and diffuse the situation is almost too much to handle. He wants the stress to end.

A short moment later the door slides open and Kit, Mace, and Yoda enter the room. Obi-Wan is nervous about what it means when a situation needs the presence of three Council members.

“Obi-Wan,” Yoda says gently, walking slowly to him. “An apology you deserve.”

He looks at the old master incredulously.

A three-clawed hand gently brings the loose hair from behind his ear to rest on his chest. He hears Qui-Gon’s sharp intake of breath. He pointedly does not look at him, knowing full well that the pain on his face will make him take it all back.

“Unhappy you should not be. Nor afraid of your own master. Something wrong there is, and fix it we will.”

Yoda turns around to face Qui-Gon. “Told you I did. Hurt this boy you have and make it right you must.”

 Obi-Wan’s chest aches when Qui-Gon looks away in shame, but he is suffering because of him and there has to be a starting point.

“Anakin?” He asks carefully.

Kind green eyes meet his and Obi-Wan feels less frightened. He does not feel so hopeless.

“Train him I will. Talented he is. But, worry about him you should not. More important is your training.”

He looks shyly up at Qui-Gon, who is watching him with sad, dark eyes.

“I apologize for all the mistakes I have made and the pain I have caused you, Obi-Wan. You did nothing to deserve my treatment of you, and I am ashamed that my own Padawan is afraid to speak to me. You should not fear coming to me with your problems even if they are with me,” Qui-Gon says. His voice softens, “I truly wish I could take it all back.”

Obi-Wan sticks his hand in the tunic pocket and pulls out his braid’s ties and beads. He holds them out in his trembling hand, offering them to Qui-Gon. Garen steps to the side and allows him to come to Obi-Wan’s side. His big frame folds easily down onto the floor beside Obi-Wan and he takes the decorations from him with a gentle touch.

“I will do everything in my power to make things right between us, Obi-Wan. I will ensure our relationship is no longer in the back of my mind. I want us to focus on strengthening our bond, if you wish that as well.”

“Yes, I do. Please,” he begs.

He has always wanted their bond to be strong and an asset to their relationship until it was obvious Qui-Gon wanted the opposite.

“I’ve done you a great disservice,” Qui-Gon murmurs. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?”

Nothing comes to mind. He is simply glad to have his master paying attention to him, genuine and undivided attention.

“I want you to tell me if you are unhappy. I know it will be hard, but that will help us to create the boundaries I never allowed you to have.

Obi-Wan nods and leans forward slightly, running his fingers through the loose hair of his braid. He looks up at Qui-Gon hopefully.

“Will you fix my braid again? I’m sorry I took it out—”

Qui-Gon silences him with a shake of his head. “Don’t apologize. You have the right to remove my decorations if you are displeased with your training. I’m not upset. I’m honored that you are willing to accept me back into your life after how I’ve treated you.”

A warm hand cups his cheek and Obi-Wan leans into the touch.

“You are truly a great Jedi and an even greater man. You have my word that I will do everything to care for you while you are still under my tutelage.”

Obi-Wan rests his hand lightly on Qui-Gon’s knee.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else as my master. The Force chose you to be my teacher and we struggled, but I know we were meant to be together.”

At Qui-Gon’s soft, lopsided smile, he has the sudden urge to throw himself into his master’s arms and beg forgiveness.

“There’s nothing you must apologize for, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says quietly, leaning close. “I am the one who must beg _your_ forgiveness. I have hurt you deeply, but I hope we can find a way to heal together.”

Obi-Wan pushes tears from his eyes, trembling as he watches Qui-Gon methodically braid his hair into its perfect plait.

“The master, the apprentice, and the force,” he murmurs, looking Obi-Wan in the eye.

Obi-Wan stares back, just as awed as he was the first time Qui-Gon did this.

“I’m sorry that I did not remember the pledge I took when I agreed to teach you. You are more than my student, Obi-Wan. Attachment is forbidden by the Code, but love is not. I was afraid that my affection for you would ruin all of my hard work, and I was too weak and fearful to reach out to my other masters for assistance. I took my frustration out on you, the one person I love more than anything and who did not deserve it. I refused to admit that you helped me heal from Xanatos’s betrayal, but you did. You pulled me back from the Dark more times than I am comfortable admitting, but it has always been you that has saved me.”

Qui-Gon’s hands are gentle as he helps Obi-Wan get to his feet. Obi-Wan sways into his touch and is surprised when his master accepts his intrusion. But now it would not be considered as such.

After he carefully finishes the last ties of his braid, Qui-Gon stands at Obi-Wan’s side with his arm wrapped around his shoulders. In front of three Council members and two of Obi-Wan’s best friends, Qui-Gon takes Obi-Wan as his Padawan for the second time. He recites the words perfectly from memory and wipes Obi-Wan’s tears when he manages to find his voice and answers his prompts.

Mace steps forward and Obi-Wan barely has time to smother his spike of fear. He does not want to be taken from his master once again and put on probation and made to feel like a stranger in his own home.

“Find your center, Obi-Wan. There will be no formal censure from the Council. This will not be handled as discipline, but as if it were a health matter. No one else must know of this unless it worsens, but I do not foresee any problems. Kit, Yoda, and I will be assisting you in the necessary lessons to strengthen your bond and create a more stable relationship. Bant and Garen are welcome to help as well at Obi-Wan’s request. Garen will be kept off the mission roster until Obi-Wan is comfortable with him returning. We only want what is best for you. We have failed Jedi in the past and we do not wish to do that any longer.”

He speaks to them both, but makes obvious eye contact with Obi-Wan. He feels more at ease knowing he is not in trouble for any of his struggles. Finally, the warm palm on his shoulder does not feel heavy or stifling, but comforting and full of affection. Such a harmless, innocent exchange of body heat leaves Obi-Wan feeling butterflies in his stomach.

“I will give you a few moments with your friends,” Qui-Gon says, squeezing Obi-Wan’s shoulder lightly. “I would like it if you would accompany me back to our quarters so we can speak with Master Yoda.”

Suddenly Obi-Wan is not fearful of being with Qui-Gon. He instead looks forward to the time with him, healing the broken bits of their relationship. He cannot even imagine what a whole, healthy bond would feel like, but he is eager to find out.

He nods at Qui-Gon, who places his hand between Obi-Wan’s shoulder blades in a parting touch.

“I’ll be outside,” Qui-Gon says softly, leaving Garen’s quarters with Kit, Mace, and Yoda.

Garen immediately wraps him up in his arms. “Force, I was so scared he was going to hurt you. He’s never hit you, right?”

Cool hands cup his face and direct his attention. Obi-Wan sees the genuine fear in Garen’s eyes and touches one of his hands.

“No, Garen. He’s never hit me. I promise. We’re going to be okay.”

Garen smiles at him. “I know. If you ever need me to sit in lessons with you or want some support, I will always drop whatever I’m doing to be there with you.”

Obi-Wan smiles at him, finally feeling something other than dread at the thought of tomorrow.

“I know you will. That’s why I love you.”

He kisses Garen softly on the mouth, something they had tried before but Obi-Wan had never taken a liking to. Now he is willing to try again, just as he is trying again to make things right with his master. Garen pulls away only to cover his face in kisses, making Obi-Wan laugh.

“You two are disgusting,” Bant says, deadpan. But she is smiling. She hugs Obi-Wan and squeezes him tight. “I’m always in the Halls if you need me. We may have all been separated for a while because of our training, but we’re here for you now, Obi-Wan. And when Reeft gets back you know he will want to help as well. You’re not alone, Obi, and we will always be there for you whenever you ask for us.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, to both of them.

They both hug him then, surrounding him with their warmth and light. Garen retrieves Obi-Wan’s boots and helps him finish dressing, smoothing his cloak over his shoulders so it falls perfectly.

“There, handsome as ever,” he says, stroking Obi-Wan’s cheek with his knuckles. “If you need anything, just call us on our commlinks and we’ll be there. Anytime.”

He nods and hugs them each once more, kissing Garen again before they lead him to the door.

There is no fear or worry when Obi-Wan leaves Garen at the door to his quarters to follow Yoda and Qui-Gon. He knows there is no easy way to overcome the pain he has endured, but he is willing to do his very best. The Force wants he and Qui-Gon to be together so they must work to make it right.


	3. Three

Obi-Wan never thought opening his mind to Qui-Gon would be so taxing. Master Yoda is sitting across from them patiently, and Obi-Wan cannot feel any annoyance or judgement in the Force, but he is still mortified that he cannot do something so simple.

“Would you be more comfortable if Garen or Bant were here with you?” Qui-Gon asks gently.

The past days have been filled with soft voices and careful touches and Obi-Wan wants to scream that he is not an infant in need of coddling. He is an adult suffering from years of emotional and mental abuse that is relearning how to trust and he needs _time._

“I need a moment,” he says stiffly, rising from the couch and quickly darting out the door to the room they are using for all of their remedial lessons.

He does not run.

The first time he abandoned their training he ran all the way to Reeft’s quarters and hid in his kitchen for close to two hours trying to come to terms with his wounded pride.

Now he simply goes to the nearby bench and sits, waiting for his heart to settle back in his chest from its place in his throat. After several minutes, Qui-Gon emerges from the room and looks around for him, fear softening to relief when their eyes meet.

Obi-Wan watches him walk the short distance and sit on the opposite end of the bench, allowing Obi-Wan his space.

“Master Yoda told me to come retrieve you. He said that if he was to do it for me, I was continuing to run away from my problems.” Qui-Gon looks at his hands clasped between his knees. “He says that I do not allow myself to be seen as anything less than intimidating or stern because I fear being taken advantage of again. But you will not take advantage of me because you are not Xanatos.”

Qui-Gon looks over at him and Obi-Wan sees how badly he is suffering as well.

“He thinks that I should submit to my own therapy before we continue working with you. He fears I may continue hurting you if I do not address my own weaknesses first. Your inability to open your mind to me is not a fault on your part. Your mind is trying to protect you from me. It knows I am not healthy for you.”

Obi-Wan moves down the bench and settles closer to his master. “I’m sorry.”

Dark eyes catch his and hold his gaze. “This is not your fault, Obi-Wan. You are not to blame for my shortcomings. I have allowed my pain to linger for too long and now it is causing you harm as well. I want to deal with my demons so that I can be strong for you. A master is supposed to support their apprentice, not the other way around. You have done more than enough for me and now it is my turn to give back. I want to help you, but I have to help myself first. Will you let me do that?”

He is buried against Qui-Gon’s side in an instant, grasping his tunics, and he feels a warm, heavy arm come around his back.

“I do not deserve you,” he hears being whispered into his hair.

“We deserve each other, Master. Neither of us is perfect,” he murmurs back, listening to the steady rhythm of Qui-Gon’s heart under his cheek.

“You’re an incredible young man, Obi-Wan. I’m so blessed to have you in my life. Let me heal myself so that I can be the master you’ve always deserved. I want to give you that.”

Obi-Wan leans away and looks up at Qui-Gon, at his blue eyes shining with tears.

“I wish I could help you, Master, but I know this is something only you can do for yourself. I have faith in you.”

Before he can process the movement, Qui-Gon is pressing a kiss to his forehead. Then he pulls back just as quickly.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s all right,” Obi-Wan says quietly. “I don’t mind. Truly.”

Qui-Gon hugs him tightly and leaves a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ve never told you how important you are to me, but I promise that you are the reason I get up every morning. I have simply hidden my love for you to protect myself from a danger that did not exist. I hope to show you soon how much you mean to me.”

Obi-Wan winds his arms around Qui-Gon’s waist and tucks himself against his chest. “Thank you.”

+++

While Qui-Gon spends most of his days focusing on healing the parts of himself Xanatos damaged and he allowed to fester for a decade, Obi-Wan takes an accelerated course on Outer Rim languages and uses the rest of his time to catch up with Garen, Bant, and Reeft. He feels much happier now, surrounded by his friends with the knowledge that his master is getting the help he needs and they will soon be mending their own relationship.

Each evening Qui-Gon quietly asks Obi-Wan if he will meditate with him. Nothing too intense or immersive, just sitting with each other and enjoying the company. Obi-Wan has never turned him down. He cherishes the few memories of them co-meditating together early on in his apprenticeship, and now he is eager to do it again. They do not touch their bond, but Obi-Wan can still feel his master in the Force around him.

One night Obi-Wan emerges from his meditation before Qui-Gon and sees him sitting there, a picture of serenity save for the tears tracks on his cheeks. The dampness glistens in the light from the city outside and Obi-Wan feels his heart twist in his chest. He moves to sit directly in front of his master and gently takes one of his hands between both of his own.

Dark blue eyes slide open and peer down at him. He holds that gaze.

“I have never hated you,” he says softly. “I didn’t know how to deal with our problems, but I never hated you. I will admit that most of my issues stem from your treatment of me because otherwise I would be lying.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes close again and another tear slips down his cheek. Obi-Wan squeezes his hand and Qui-Gon opens his eyes again in response.

“I forgive you. You’re still struggling to overcome damage done to you and you took your frustration and pain out on me, but I know now that you didn’t know how to handle it otherwise. If Xanatos had not fallen, our time together could have been much easier, but that is not how our lives played out so we must do what we can to make things right. You’re my master and I love you. You’re the closest thing I have to a family, a father.”

Qui-Gon’s hand shakes when he reaches out for Obi-Wan, drawing him into the circle of his arms where he burrows close to his chest. They spend the next hour on the floor, clutching at each other as they spill their grief into the Force. Obi-Wan shudders when Qui-Gon touches him because the sensation is so sweet, so reverent that he cannot contain his joy.

The next morning Qui-Gon departs for his various tasks and therapy sessions only after making Obi-Wan his favorite breakfast and kissing him on the head as he makes for the door. Obi-Wan spends the first half of the day working on his accelerated language class and then meets Garen for lunch in the dining hall.

He tells Garen about the meditation the night before. The memory evokes equal parts excitement and pain because he hates to see Qui-Gon suffering so badly, but he is eager at the prospect of a healthy relationship with the man.

“That’s good, Obi. I’m so happy for you.” Garen reaches across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’m just disappointed that this has kept you from excelling in your training. You should be a Knight by now.”

Something ugly flares in Obi-Wan’s chest. He pulls his hand back.

“You don’t have to keep reminding me that I’m still a Padawan, Garen. It’s nothing to be ashamed of even at our age. Most Jedi aren’t Knighted until they’re twenty-three. I may have been near the top of our class as Initiates, but that doesn’t mean I will continue on that path my whole life. I spend most of my time in the field now, not the classroom. If it takes me another five years to be a Knight, then I will gladly spend those years with my master. I wasn’t afforded the lovely, rose-colored apprenticeship you and Bant were so I apologize if it bothers you to be seen with a lowly _Padawan_.”

Obi-Wan stands abruptly and leaves the dining hall without looking back. He knows he is being petulant, but his emotions are raw after the events a week ago and then the failed lessons with Qui-Gon. Now he barely sees his master except for dinner and their shared meditations in the evening. It feels as if things are getting worse before they are expected to get better.

He finds himself standing in front of Mace Windu’s quarters and knocks before he can change his mind.

The door slides open and Mace looks at him worriedly.

“Is something wrong, Padawan?”

Suddenly Obi-Wan feels incredibly foolish seeking a Council member’s time for nothing more than comfort.

“Apologies, Master Windu. I’ll just go. I shouldn’t have—”

“Hush, Obi-Wan. Come in. We will discuss whatever is bothering you,” Mace says simply, ushering him through the door before Obi-Wan can bolt.

“Outside the Council Chambers, I am not the stony, emotionless Jedi everyone thinks I am. I know this is a stressful time for you so I don’t want you to avoid seeking help whenever you need it because of pride. What’s troubling you?”

As he speaks, Mace pours him a cup of tea from the pot on the low table and then urges him to sit on the couch. He sits in a well-loved armchair to Obi-Wan’s left.

Before he can overthink his words, Obi-Wan starts speaking.

“I feel more alone than before everything fell apart,” he begins. “I was at least allowed to see my master more than two hours a day, and we had missions to fill our time. I’m taking an accelerated course, but I can only study Outer Rim languages for so long before my eyes cross. I can’t remember the last time I entered a training salle because it was always Qui-Gon that sparred with me. My friends are trying to help, but I keep pushing them away. I’ve had too many people breathing down my neck these past few weeks about making progress and fixing things with my master.”

He breathes out a deep sigh.

“I’m tired.”

Mace does not release his gaze for another long moment, but then he nods sympathetically.

“I’m glad you came to talk to me. I think we were so focused on mending your relationship with Qui-Gon that we tried to push too hard, too fast. There is only so much progress you can make in situations like these no matter how often or how hard you work.”

Obi-Wan feels himself relax slightly. _Things will get better. I just have to ask._

Mace continues, “We will cut down on Qui-Gon’s sessions and begin reintegrating your lessons together again. He has come very far from where he started, and I believe he is finally seeing things outside of the shadow Xanatos cast over him. We will give you free time together to spend however you wish, to reestablish your relationship outside of your Jedi duties.”

His chest fills with warmth at the thought of his master no longer suffering from all the pain his former apprentice caused. He does not take the matter of Qui-Gon’s heart lightly because he was there when Xanatos killed himself and he was forced to bear witness to the unadulterated grief on his master’s face. To think of Qui-Gon healing, Obi-Wan can barely contain his joy.

“Qui-Gon has expressed similar worries recently that he does not get to see you as often as he would like,” Mace says, smiling slightly. “He wants to connect with you properly, like you are a new team instead of one that is seven years old. Usually, after a master chooses a Padawan, they are given a reprieve of responsibilities to get comfortable around one another and establish their bond. I know you were never afforded that luxury. We will be sure to give it to you now.”

Obi-Wan swallows. “Thank you, Master.”

A weight lifts off his shoulders and he no longer feels trapped. He no longer feels like his healing is being forced.

Mace smiles gently. “You’re welcome, Obi-Wan. If you have any more concerns, do not hesitate to come to me. I will do everything in my power to make sure you and Qui-Gon do not suffer any more trauma. You two are our best team, and I know Qui-Gon truly cares for you even if he could not show it.”

Obi-Wan nods, his throat tight with emotion. He wants so badly for things to be right, for him to be able to have the warm memories most Knights have of their apprenticeships.

A moment passes and then Mace looks up from his tea.

“Did you know Qui-Gon and I were friends as Padawans?”

Obi-Wan starts. “No, Master.”

“Let me show you something.”

Obi-Wan’s visit ends with him in fits of laughter over one single holopic of Mace with dark hair and a gangly, awkward sixteen-year-old Qui-Gon. He is also afforded stories of Qui-Gon and Mace as Padawans and young Knights. His favorite turns out to be the tale of Qui-Gon accidentally insulting a Duke in front of an entire royal court because he used the wrong conjugation of _to meet._

When he leaves, he is in much higher spirits, but his argument with Garen still hangs heavily on his mind.

Obi-Wan nearly trips over someone’s feet on his way to the turbolifts.

“Garen!” He says incredulously.

His friend is on his feet in an instant, his face stricken.

“Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry. I searched the whole Temple for you until I felt your signature here so I waited for you. I didn’t want to leave things between us—”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have acted so childishly. I’m under a lot of stress, but that’s no excuse—”

“It’s okay, I understand. I didn’t mean to upset you. You’re so incredible and I just want to see you succeed, but you shouldn’t feel pressured to become a Knight before you’re ready. I’m so sorry. I’m going to support you in whatever you choose to do, I promise—”

Obi-Wan throws himself against Garen’s chest, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him close. Garen buries his face in his neck.

“I wasn’t even mad at you, Garen. I was upset because I haven’t seen my master properly in days and I can’t even succeed at simple exercises with him. I’m worried that I won’t be able to complete these lessons and I won’t ever get to be a proper Knight—”

Garen squeezes him tighter and they simply stand in the hallway embracing for several moments. They pull away only a few centimeters and Garen smoothes Obi-Wan’s hair.

“You’re going to be a Knight. Qui-Gon promised you that he would see you Knighted, and I know he won’t go back on that promise—especially now.”

He kisses Obi-Wan softly on the forehead. “Let me walk you back to your quarters.”

They walk at a relaxed, easy pace with their fingers linked together under the puddling of their cloak sleeves. Before they reach the shared quarters, Garen tugs Obi-Wan into an empty alcove and traps him against the wall with his arms. Obi-Wan laughs and tilts his head back to look into his eyes. Garen kisses him lightly on the mouth, just a chaste press of their lips, and Obi-Wan smiles. He leaves more kisses along his jaw and cheeks and brow, holding Obi-Wan close with an arm wrapped low around his hips.

“I love you,” he whispers, low and sweet in Obi-Wan’s ear before he kisses that too.

Obi-Wan curls his fingers into Garen’s cloak. “I love you too.”

Garen walks him to the door to his and Qui-Gon’s quarters, and Obi-Wan keys in his access code. The room is empty, but he expected that. Garen kisses him one last time on the cheek before leaving him and Obi-Wan’s smile does not fade for several minutes afterward.

When Qui-Gon arrives, Obi-Wan has made them dinner and is sitting at their table, waiting for him. Qui-Gon is carrying a datapad in his hand and he smiles warmly when he comes into the kitchen.

“This looks delicious, Obi-Wan. Thank you,” he says, squeezing Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I received a new schedule for the coming weeks along with a note from Mace.”

Obi-Wan grits his teeth, says nothing.

“I’m glad you went to him, Obi-Wan. I’m glad you are reaching out when you are struggling instead of keeping it to yourself. I think we will both benefit greatly from this new schedule.”

He sets the datapad down in front of Obi-Wan before filling both their plates with the noodle dish Obi-Wan made them.

Obi-Wan picks up the datapad and reads over the new schedule. Qui-Gon will only be attending his private therapy sessions every other day and the time now freed will be for his sessions with Obi-Wan. They are simple, remedial therapy for struggling masters and Padawans, rarely used but important nonetheless. The sessions have even revealed some ill-matched master and Padawan pairs and helped them to find more suitable replacements.

Their afternoons are allotted to training, meditation, exploring, whatever they wish to do to fill the time. Obi-Wan remembers their first of only a few trips to Dex’s Diner out in the city. Hopefully they could find more obscure, out-the-way places together.

“I thought we could use tomorrow as a rest day,” Qui-Gon says, breaking Obi-Wan out of his thoughts. “No training or meditation. Just relaxing together. I feel as if I do not truly know you, and I would like to change that.”

He reaches out and smoothes his fingers along Obi-Wan’s braid. Obi-Wan holds his breath as if he is dreaming and this will end with Qui-Gon chiding him for missing a tie or a stray hair and flicking the braid away with disgust. But instead Qui-Gon curls the braid around his fingers and Obi-Wan sees tears well in his eyes.

“Padawan.”

He says the word like he is saying a prayer in the silence of a sanctuary, soft and reverent. Obi-Wan’s throat grows tight.

A battle-hardened, calloused hand cups his cheek and Qui-Gon brushes his thumb across his skin.

“I am so proud of you,” he says intensely, looking Obi-Wan directly in the eye. “You are remarkable.”

Obi-Wan cannot fight the blush that creeps across the bridge of his nose, highlighting the scattered freckles there. Qui-Gon smiles at him, that easy, lopsided grin that makes Obi-Wan go warm all over.

They eat and meditate together as usual, but there is a new level of comfort they did not have before. Obi-Wan releases his disappointment into the Force at having to leave his master’s side for bed. He is delighted when Qui-Gon hugs him tight to his chest before they part ways.

A few hours after Obi-Wan falls asleep, Qui-Gon peeks into his room and watches him for a long time. He does not intrude into his personal space and simply stands in the doorway. He watches the gentle rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s back as he breathes and marvels at the fact that he has been given a second chance to nurture this brilliant young mind. Qui-Gon feels humbled to be the one lucky enough to hold Obi-Wan’s unbridled love and trust and joy.

He is beginning to think that he was wrong to assume Anakin is the Chosen One when someone so pure and bright and brilliant has been in his care for the past seven years.


End file.
